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Moving Day

Life in flux living like a refugee a place I’ve been before bathing like a whore making appearances disappearing into an itchy womb that doesn’t feel like home but keeps me warm and dry but feeling broken and the worst part is that I did it too myself just me; me and no one else and that’s what really hurts but today today today it ends and today today today I can be made whole again but I’m terribly afraid that what’s broken cannot be mended (she tells me what’s broken can be mended and that everything’s going to be okay) and so I trust her I trust her I trust her I believe I want to believe, and can it really be the redhead this time convincing the skeptic it would appear so but how did we get this far apart, we used to be so close together could this really be the end of this chasm between us could that be the sun on the horizon I need to know because it’s moving day and here we are together it’s moving day and we’re nearly back together I’ve brought all the kings horses and all the kings men, did you bring some sort of adhesive because it’s moving day and we’re moving closer together and it’s moving day and this has to be forever.

That’s funny because it’s true. Since my kiddo was 11, she has been facinated with Emo (although, at 14, now playing with “gender bending”). The true def of “Emo”…NOTHING like it is now. Hehehehe…those bands are pretty funny, mostly.

I dreamed about you last night. You were visiting and meeting my family and convinced me to dye my hair a violent purple. You took two pens, one green and one silver and tattooed a Slitherin scarf around my neck and then you took my four year old wading in a stream with a rock bed. O.o
I’m still trying to figure it out.

I’m okay, thanks, just had a patch of anxiety the last couple of days, and except for a brief slip, have tried to keep it out of the public eye. I promise that I will only ever have maroon and yellow pens. Go Gryffindor.